


Shooting Stars

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: First Kiss, I'm shameless, M/M, Mushy mushy fluff, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe. Sparkling, never-ending, complicated, mysterious. Beautiful.  Q holds it in the palm of his hand. And today he decides he wants to give it to Jean-Luc Picard.<br/>This is a story about love, trust, fear and what it’s like to be human.</p><p>Written for the 2016 Qcard Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shooting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank [robot-sex-guy](http://robot-sex-guy.tumblr.com/) and [vulcanqueen](http://vulcanqueen.tumblr.com/) for making art for my story! 
> 
> You can find robot-sex-guy's art [here](http://robot-romance-guy.tumblr.com/post/148989561066/my-submission-for-the-q-card-big-bang-d/)  
> and vulcanqueen's fanmix [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7767673)

The sky was tinted deep purple. Clouds floated over the scene like paint-splattered spots, smearing the horizon with their shifting colors. Stars were peeking shyly from above, winking down at a sea of calm, unmoving waters. The scenery seemed to stretch out infinitely. It was ceaselessly expanding, growing, swelling, developing…

And Q held it all in the palm of his hand.

It was boring to look at, so Q flicked his wrist and watched another landscape take its place between his thumb and forefinger: magma, boiling lava, spluttering and spitting its deadly hot liquid onto the lip of a volcano. Rocks were crumbling and falling into the fire with a crackling sound.

Q yawned and balled his hand into a fist. He liked using his human body, even when he wasn’t in close contact with humans: he had gotten used to it, to the various ways it reacted, to the pleasantness of its quirks and the complexity of its language. He knew the other members of the Q Continuum made fun of him – he didn’t care, not really, not when it came to this. This was _his_ thing, anyway. They were a rotten and jealous bunch.

It was also oddly satisfying to do things with his human body that it wasn’t intended for. Holding a universe in one’s hand was certainly unprecedented. He liked hovering over things too; flying when gravity would want him to stick to the ground. He liked doing it around the corridors of the _Enterprise_ , even when nobody could see him.

There were a lot of things he liked to do around the _Enterprise_. He enjoyed lounging on the saucer, or peering through the windows from the outside, as if he couldn’t walk right through the bulkheads.

Yes, playing human was much more fun when he bent the rules. No pain, no limits, no revolting natural needs or unnecessary discomfort; his human body was a paradise. He also made sure that his vast consciousness could be contained in the tiny human brain: there was absolutely no way he would allow his omnipotence and omniscience to go to waste, not even for a second.

Oh yes, playing mortal was fun. But lately he’d come to question his motives for staying so long inside his preferred human form. Why did he do it, time after time? Why did Q do _anything_?

The answer was so simple that he’d wanted to slap his human forehead for even asking it: he only did something because he wanted to, of course – which brought up new questions. Why did he want to keep coming back to this same body? What was so interesting about it?

Eventually, he’d figured out that he’d been asking himself the wrong questions. It wasn’t the body he was interested in, it was the species. He’d already chosen it over billions of others, countless times. He remembered every single instance: he remembered being punished and choosing a human body to carry his most precious consciousness while the punishment was underway. He remembered slipping into dreams and nightmares and imaginings to right wrongs or teach lessons. He remembered risking everything to help one particular human save the rest of his species.

One particular human.

That was how the answer came to Q: in the form of Jean-Luc Picard’s face, looking up at the stars from behind his ready room’s tiny window.

It was so simple. Q did not like it.

But yes, there was no point in denying it; Jean-Luc was the answer. Q had been obsessed with humanity from the very moment he’d laid eyes on the man. This newfound fondness for a mortal body wasn’t totally unjustified, then. Close contact with Picard had made Q curious. There was nothing wrong with that.

Q already knew he didn’t want to spend more than a few hours at a time inside this prison of flesh and blood. Mortal shells had their rewards, but they were constricting nonetheless. How could Picard _live_ inside his own body, knowing he could never escape it? How did manage to like it, to listen to it, to let himself be vulnerable to its every urge and impulse?

Something stirred within Q. He turned every bit of his consciousness towards Jean-Luc and watched in silence as the man sipped his tea, sitting down at his desk. The nonchalance with which the human moved left Q feeling restless. He didn’t – _couldn’t_ – understand how such a fragile creature could draw each breath with such brazen indifference. Not only did Jean-Luc ignore his own mortality, but he constantly put himself in danger, doubling his chances of extinction.

Q suddenly wanted to protect Jean-Luc from his own boldness.

It was a silly thought, of course. Q recognized it as such. After all, nothing could stifle a human’s need for hope. The whole species ran on hope. It was marvelous – truly splendid –, their capacity to aspire, to want, to wish, to dream.

Q wondered what Jean-Luc’s hopes and dreams were.

“What are your hopes and dreams, Jean-Luc?” he asked, shimmering into existence without ceremony in Picard’s ready room.

“My goodness,” the man started, making his tea sway in its cup, “Q!”

“So?” Q pressed him, unwilling to hide his impatience.

Jean-Luc took a deep breath and leaned back into his chair. “What on Earth are you talking about?” he said, setting down his cup and trying to look composed by pulling at the hem of his uniform shirt.

“I asked you a question.”

“You startled me! I’m not even sure I remember what the question was,” Jean-Luc frowned.

“What are your hopes and dreams? Surely your life isn’t entirely devoid of meaning?” Q teased, simply because that was what he did best.

Picard sighed heavily and placed his elbows on his desk, hooking his fingers together. “I’m really not in the mood for this, Q,” he muttered, almost pleadingly.

“It’s a simple question.”

“To which there is no simple answer. Now get off my ship.”

Q sat down in the chair facing Jean-Luc and threw his legs up onto the desk, crossing them over a pile of PADDs. “I’m in no hurry,” he shrugged, ignoring the order to get off the ship.

“I don’t understand,” Picard shook his head, looking angry and more than a little irritated, “why are you doing this?”

Q shrugged again. “I’m curious.”

“ _Why_?” Jean-Luc slammed his open palm down onto the desk. Q involuntarily flinched and pulled his feet off the desk. “What lesson must I learn this time? Haven’t you tortured me enough? When will you leave me alone?”

The violence in Picard’s voice was disturbing. Q stared at him in utter dismay. The captain looked fierce, his muscles quivering with rage, his eyebrows knitted and a vein protruding from his forehead. If there was one thing Picard never failed at, it was surprising Q.

“I’m sick and tired of you and your childish games,” he went on, never once taking his eyes off Q, “Why are you here, Q? Just tell me. Why are you _really_ here?”

And there it was. The answer, the real one; the big revelation, the huge surprise. The sad truth. It struck Q like a blow to the face. He sat there in his human body, feeling the rest of him drown in a sea of bitter reality. Candor had never been Q’s forte, _but by the Continuum_ , he couldn’t lie to himself forever.

He had tried. He had tried and tried to deny it, to keep it a secret even from himself. Foolish, how absolutely foolish of him.

Q listened to Jean-Luc’s question, really listened to it, and he felt his human body recoil in shame and elation and pain and excitement. _Why was he really there?_

“I’m in love with you,” the words came flying out of his mouth, crashing into the air between them. He sounded desperate.

That was it; that was the answer to every question Q had ever asked himself. He was in love with Jean-Luc Picard. It was his only weakness, but also his source of strength; his redeeming quality and his evident flaw – Q’s feelings were an ocean of contradictions. The relief he felt at being able to acknowledge the truth was only equaled by the fear he bore in the pit of his human stomach.

Jean-Luc’s expression crumbled. Q watched as the anger and frustration slipped out of his eyes, leaving his face discolored, pale; as still and empty as a blank page. 

“I’m in love with you,” Q said it again, one word at a time, cruelly slow. The damage was done; the cat was out of the bag; there was nothing but the bare truth now.

Picard closed his eyes. Q lifted his hand, motioning to snap his fingers and disappear – he didn’t feel like staying here and embarrassing himself further.

“Don’t you dare,” Jean-Luc’s eyes snapped open.

Q stopped, holding his hand up in mid-air. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he owed Jean-Luc something. The thought was ridiculous; how could he, an all-powerful Q, owe anything to a pathetic mortal? And yet the feeling lingered, making him pause and wait.

“Is this another test, Q?” Picard hissed, “Is this some sort of perverted game you’re trying to play?”

The anger had disappeared from the captain’s voice, but his eyes were brimming with contempt. He didn’t understand.

“You don’t understand,” Q shook his head.

“How could I?” Picard scoffed, “In your own words, I’m a member of a ‘grievously savage race’.”

“Did I really say that? How unimaginative of me.”

“You’ve gone too far this time. Resorting to this; it’s pitiful. And you may know a great many things about me, you may even try to use them against me – but it won’t work,” Jean-Luc leaned over his desk, hands trembling.

Q felt… hurt. He’d told the captain he’d ‘ _wounded him’_ in the past, but it was never true. Never like this. Never with this intensity. Here in Picard’s ready room, Q experienced pain for the first time since he’d been turned into a human. He hated it.

“You really think I’m lying,” he muttered, unsure of where to go or how to act now.

“Of course I do,” Jean-Luc nodded, “Or would you have me believe that you truly harbor feelings for me? What kind of a fool do you take me for?”

 _The kind who was too good, too rigid in his principles, too grumpy, too French, too just, too suspicious, too mortal_. Q wanted to make a list of everything that made Jean-Luc a fool. Everything that Q loved about this bald, short, ill-tempered fool.

Jean-Luc’s eyes were blazing with feeling. Q wanted to reach out and touch his mind; know his thoughts; find the right answer. But reading Jean-Luc’s mind was out of the question. Not without his consent. No, Q couldn’t take the easy way out this time. He had to convince Picard.

How embarrassing.

“If it were true, what would you do about it?” he asked, unwilling to let go.

“It’s not true,” Jean-Luc held Q’s gaze stubbornly.

“You don’t know that.”

They stared persistently into each other’s eyes, neither of them ready to give up. Everything was silent; even the ship’s engines seemed to have stopped humming. The moment was beautiful in its absolute stillness. Q’s mind wandered off as he drowned in Jean-Luc’s hazel gaze.

Seven human years had passed since Q had first appeared on the _Enterprise_. Was that a long time? Were they old friends by now? Were they even friends at all? It all seemed so ridiculous right now: the years of hatred, then the banter, and after that the quietness – the inexplicable calmness that had followed their last encounter. ‘ _See you out there’_ , Q had said. Well, this was it. This was _out there_. This was as far away ‘ _out there’_ as Q could possibly get.

“I’m not lying,” he said firmly, feeling the words reverberate within him. This was his truth. And he wasn’t going to give up on it now that he’d finally found it. “I’m finished with lies.”

Jean-Luc’s eyes faltered and his gaze fell onto his desk. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “So that’s what this was all about?” he said, and Q knew he meant all the years, all the broken, misguided moments since they’d first met. As if a single sentence could explain it all.

That was when Q realized that Jean-Luc looked upon their relationship as a peculiarity. He could hear the words without having to read the man’s mind: ‘so that’s what Q’s weird obsession with me means’. It hurt more than anything ever had.

He stood up and walked over to the window. Jean-Luc did not follow him.

“I should go,” he muttered, half-hoping the captain would stop him.

But the captain said nothing soothing or kind. Instead, he crossed the room and planted himself right in front of Q. His jaw was clenched. “What are you afraid of?” he asked sharply.

Q blinked back at him. “Excuse me?”

“What are you afraid of, Q? Why are you leaving now, after telling me this?”

The arrogance of this particular human was positively appalling. Q loved it. “I’m not afraid, Jean-Luc,” he frowned, although he was already feeling a lot better, slipping into his regular role.

“Of course you are,” Picard said matter-of-factly, “you’re running away.”

Q stared down at him in awe. Was it courage or foolishness that drove him to challenge Q in such a way? After all, he was an all-mighty Q, capable of destroying worlds and burning galaxies. And yet Jean-Luc Picard wasn’t afraid. It was ironic, really. Because Q was terrified.

The captain was studying him – still testing him, Q realized. He felt vulnerable, but it was easy to hide. That was part of why he loved this human body so much. It towered over the captain and made him look small in comparison. Being tall and intimidating definitely made hiding one’s fear a lot easier.

“Why do you care?” Q whispered. He’d wanted his tone to be bitter and full of blame and accusation, but fondness had taken over. “What’s it to you, Jean-Luc?” he added, not really expecting an answer.

It was over. At least he’d tried. He lifted his hand again, ready to snap his fingers.

“Wait!” Picard reached out and grabbed Q’s arm, pulling him down.

Their eyes locked. Q could feel Jean-Luc’s warm breath against his cheeks. His stomach lurched with anticipation.

“I think I believe you now,” the captain breathed.

Q didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to feel. He had never been confused before. Confusion was a form of inner chaos he had no idea existed.

“You believe me,” he repeated stupidly.

Jean-Luc nodded. “And I wish there were a way I could trust you,” he was looking up at Q imploringly, and it only made the entity more confused.

 “Trust me? Trust me with what? I’m not asking anything of you,” Q shook his head defensively, anger slowly slipping into his disordered mind, “How typically human! You always assume everyone wants something from you. I can assure you, _mon capitaine_ , that there is nothing in the universe you possess that I can’t have in a snap of my fingers –”

Jean-Luc tugged at Q’s arm to make him shut up and looked him straight in the eye. “I think I have feelings for you,” he blurted out.

Q stopped breathing. Not that he needed it to survive. But his human body acted of its own accord and stopped breathing. His omnipotent-self reacted as well, making a planetoid in some far-away star system explode in a burst of glittery gold light. And somewhere in the galaxy, a star came to life.

“Can I kiss you?” he panted.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of Jean-Luc’s mouth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Q leaned in. Jean-Luc pushed himself onto his tip-toes. They met halfway. When their lips brushed, Q promised himself to keep his eyes open, if only to watch the way Jean-Luc’s eyelids fluttered shut or the way his cheeks flushed deep red. But once they started kissing in earnest, Q found he couldn’t keep that promise. Eyes closed, chest heaving, he slid a trembling hand over Jean-Luc waist. Jean-Luc hooked his fingers tentatively in Q’s hair. And Q knew he was lost.

The kiss took them _out there_. Into the vast, expending endlessness of space. And although their eyes were closed, they could feel the cosmos surrounding them, engulfing them. Their human bodies floated, carefree. The stars, planets and galaxies shimmered in the distance, casting fractal shadows over them.

Q wanted more.

He pulled Jean-Luc closer and tilted his head to the side, claiming the human’s mouth. Jean-Luc reciprocated by capturing Q’s lower lip between his and pulling on it gently. Q ran his hands over Jean-Luc’s sides feverishly. Jean-Luc wrapped his arms around Q’s neck, drawing invisible lines over his shoulders with the tips of his fingers. Q flicked his tongue onto Jean-Luc’s lips, and Jean-Luc took it in, sucking on it greedily.

Stardust. They were nothing more than stardust. The universe was beneath them; sparkling, never-ending, complicated, mysterious. Beautiful. Just like Jean-Luc.

That was when Q knew he wanted to give it all away. Everything he had, everything he’d kept to himself, all that he was – he wanted Jean-Luc to have it. 

Pulling away slightly, Q waited for Jean-Luc to open his eyes and stared into their hidden depths. There was a question there, and Q didn’t need to read Jean-Luc’s mind to know what it was.

Lifting one hand in the air between them, palm facing upwards, Q made a small luminous sphere materialize out of nowhere. Jean-Luc looked at it, curiosity trickling out of his consciousness in a way that made it almost impossible for Q not to notice. The entity grinned and tightened his grip on the sphere.

The very fabric of space quaked around them. A parcel of the universe broke free from the bonds holding it together and slithered into the sphere – the rest of it followed, flowing into Q’s open palm. To Jean-Luc’s human eyes, the whole thing looked like a blanket of stars dissolving itself into the sphere, or a waterfall of space pouring into Q’s hands. The captain stared in silence, completely bewildered, and Q found himself smiling even wider.

Once the entirety of the universe was secured in the sphere, there was nothing around them but darkness. A brilliant blue light emanated from the sphere, painting Q and Picard’s faces a cerulean hue.

“Q?” Jean-Luc looked up and whispered, ever-so-gently, and Q could’ve sworn he’d never enjoyed hearing his name this much before.

“The universe, Jean-Luc,” he purred, then pushed the sphere into the captain’s hands, “I’m giving it to you.”

Jean-Luc didn’t seem to understand at first. He shook his head disbelievingly. “I – I can’t, I don’t –”

“Eternity, for us both,” Q added excitedly, closing Jean-Luc’s hands over the sphere and holding them, “I’m giving you the power of the Q. We can go anywhere, do anything: no limits, we have all the time in the world.”

Jean-Luc shook his head again. His expression grew stern.

“What’s wrong?” Q asked as he felt his own excitement abate.

“Q, this is – I have a lot to think about.”

“You don’t have to think about anything, just come away with me,” Q knew he sounded impatient, but he didn’t care.

Jean-Luc freed one of his hands from Q’s gentle grasp, letting the sphere roll into his other palm. He placed his free hand on Q’s cheek. The tenderness of the gesture was nearly unbearable.

“It’s not that easy. Not for me,” he sighed.

“Why not?” Q whined.

Jean-Luc smiled weakly. “I’m human – the life you lead isn’t for me. I’m not meant for it, and I’m sure it would destroy me to try to live against my nature.”

“I don’t get it, Jean-Luc. We’d be together, _forever_ ,” Q lifted his hand to his cheek and covered his captain’s fingers with his own, leaning further into the touch.

“I can’t live forever.”

“I can make it so,” Q said, giving Jean-Luc a lopsided smile.

“I’m sure you can,” Jean-Luc laughed at the choice of words.

“So?”

“Well, you see – I don’t _want_ to live forever.”

Q blinked back in surprise. He was starting to get used to the sharp pain in his chest and the reeling in his stomach that indicated heartbreak. How quaint.

“You don’t want to be with me?”

“It’s not that,” Jean-Luc pulled his hand away from Q’s face and bit his lower lip, and Q wanted to kiss him again. And again. And again, _forever_.

“Is this about your crew? We can make arrangements –”

“It isn’t about my crew,” Picard interrupted him; “It’s about me. I need to live and eventually die, Q. I can’t roam the universe forever. That’s an awfully long time.”

The darkness seemed to grow darker around them. Q leaned his forehead against Jean-Luc’s and let out a deep breath. “You want to die,” he said flatly.

“Not now. But yes, eventually.”

There was a long, painful silence. Then Q cleared his throat. “And leave me?”

“God, Q,” Jean-Luc reached up and slid his hand behind Q’s neck, pulling him downward for a long, desperate kiss.

The sphere oiled its way out of their hands, and the universe gushed out of it and filled the darkness with stars. Jean-Luc broke the kiss to look around. “Q…” his voice broke before he could say anything else.

“Do you trust me, Johnny?” Q breathed.

Jean-Luc held both Q’s hands in his. “Yes. I do.”

“Close your eyes.”

Jean-Luc did. Q placed a soft kiss on each eyelid before snapping his fingers. “You can open them now,” he said.

Picard’s eyes flew open, and he looked up at the night sky. Q saw him recognize the constellations. They were on Earth. A second later, the heavens shone with a thousand vivid lights. _A meteor shower_ – beams of color rained over them as they stood in the middle of a vineyard.

Q hugged Jean-Luc from behind, placing his chin on top of his captain’s bald head.

“You’re like a shooting star, Jean-Luc,” he whispered, “Brilliant, but gone too soon…”

Jean-Luc turned around and looked up at Q. “I’m not gone yet.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t kill me off. I’m here, now, and I’m here with _you_.”

Q’s lips parted, but nothing came out. For the first time in his incredibly long existence, Q was speechless. “Um, I – ah,” he stuttered.

Jean-Luc smiled fondly. “You know, I think you’re a lot more human than you think.”

Q lifted his eyebrows teasingly. “Don’t insult me, _mon capitaine_.”

They kissed again. Passionately but slowly. Like they had all the time in the world. When they pulled away – mostly to let Jean-Luc breathe – the night sky was calm again.

“I love you,” Q uttered, hardly believing he’d said the words, but knowing they were true.

“Shhh,” Jean-Luc closed his eyes, “kiss me again.”

Q held his captain close and kissed him again, and again, and again, and in that moment, they tasted eternity on each other’s lips.

They were both shooting stars.


End file.
